


Re-written

by CopicsForNameless



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Marriage, Modern, Other, Quest mentioned, Wedding, story telling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:40:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopicsForNameless/pseuds/CopicsForNameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haha I have a writing class :) and I am making EVERYTHING about middle earth. For the class I keep things vague so if you see a place in Middle-Earth mentioned Then I edited that before posting it. Similarly and use the names Bently Banks for Bilbo, And Blake for Thorin XP</p><p>It's a fun exercise and has made class enjoyable. Since this is technically a bunch of drabbles everything will update as something new is posted. Things are likely to be random</p><p>This won't be continued, I'm just going to post these to my middle earth dribbles.</p><p>Chapter 1: Bilbo tells a story</p>
            </blockquote>





	Re-written

**Author's Note:**

> This one could only be three-hundred words. So while the class inspired the bare bones of this story I added more just before posting it here
> 
> Prompt: The little boy stood at the door. I was busy but I let him in. After all, he lived next door. I brought some orange juice out and we both sat down at the kitchen table.

The little boy stood at the door. I was busy but I let him in. After all, he mind as well have lived next door with how frequently he visited. I brought some orange juice and tea out and we both sat down at the kitchen table. He kicked his feet underneath it, and even from where I sat I could see him pulling at loose threads in his over-coat. I took a sip of tea before clearing my throat in my usual manner, and as always the boy’s head snapped up, attention completely trained on me.

“It wasn’t my brightest of ideas; really, one could hardly call it an idea at all, more of a reaction to circumstance. Either way I found myself trailing after the group, far enough back that they hadn’t noticed me yet, but close enough that I could still hear them. . . 

“N' whats more! fur a lucky number ‘e really weren’t no luck.”

“That he wasn’t! But I’ve never seen any of you carding him about. If anyone’s got something to fuss over it’s me!’ Dori shot back to his brother. By this point I wasn’t just contemplating turning back, I was questioning the very fool notion that had me joining these dwarves in the first place. Tuning out from the cruel words that followed, my feet carried me on with them on their own accord. Moving silently even though I stuck to the dead and dry underbrush just inside the tree line. I only came to once again when my dearest (and now seemingly only) friend spoke up. 

“Well ‘e meant well! you remember the time ‘e-“ Bofur wasn’t able to finish whatever thing he was about to say on my behalf; because in the next moment Thorin’s calm voice is cut him off.

‘Meaning well doesn’t do a thing for us in the long run. You’ll take care to remember that it’s all good and well to mean well, but it holds no weight unless you can also do well. Otherwise you’re a slight on what you’re working towards achieving. He’s better off back there then here with us anyway. The road ahead will have no shortage of—” 

 

 

“Mr. Bilbo?” 

“Hmm, It’s just Bilbo, my boy. But what is it?” I asked. my eyes drawing up from the now cooling tea; not minding at all the interruption to my tale.

“I thought you told me last time these were your friends…” he whispered, becoming even smaller. Which seemed nearly impossible in itself as he had barely fit in the chair before. 

“Oh, I did. And they are.” 

“But how— They said such terrible things about you!” he sputtered. Snapping up in his seat and nearly knocking his juice over in the process. "Friends don't do that!"

“Oh don’t they now? Apologies my boy, I hate to be one to shatter this notion, but that is something friends most certainly do. They say all sorts of cruel things when they're afraid, or if they are really just worried about you." I stated, now watching him more closely.

"But... Why?” 

"That's simple enough; anger is an easy and completely natural reaction to fear. And when afraid we have difficulties separating what we mean from what we say."

"So... you think they were just afraid?" I paused at his question, then offered him a knowing smile. 

“Were your friends afraid for you when you went jumping from that tree? of course they were Frodo. It was a terrible decision, just as your friend's words were terrible. Now that doesn’t negate the fact that they were indeed cruel… But I do believe you lot will be able to make up. Don’t look at me like that lad, word travels fast in the Shire.”

“That’s just adult talk for; mom told you.” he sulked. Still looking crossly up at me through his curls. If it had not been a four-year old fauntling I may have sputtered. But it was so instead I offered what could fix most situations. 

“I’ll go get some cookies, and then we can talk about what to do about this whole thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought


End file.
